


Odaxelagnia

by Patronoftheravens



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Chaining, Hate Sex, Inappropriate use of divine powers, M/M, a really quick drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 06:23:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11777310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patronoftheravens/pseuds/Patronoftheravens
Summary: Bahamut and Ifrit aren't lovers, no. They're something much darker meeting for clandestine rendezvous to indulge more...carnal desires.





	Odaxelagnia

**_Odaxelagnia_ **

 

_ Sexual arousal from biting or being bitten _

_ _______________________________ _

Bahamut  _ hated  _ him. Hated the white hot fire that ignited in his chest at his touch, his whisper of a voice as his fingers dug into his throat spitting out phrases that only stoked that damnably hot fire. Hated the way that fire felt, so hot it  _ burned  _ not only painfully but in a masochistic sort of way that made him want it to burn  _ even hotter _ . Yet, something twisted so pleasantly in his gut as he watched him writhe under his touch, watched bruises blossom on ashen skin when gripped too tight, bitten too hard. Watched as teeth gritted against nails that raked long red scratches into his charred grey skin. Such a lovely contrast, the red roses and holly blooming after the wildfire that scorched his skin breathed over a lush forest from a greedy dragon’s maw. The same dragon’s maw sank fervent teeth into Ifrit’s bared throat, far enough where Bahamut could taste the magmic ichor that pulsed through the Infernian’s body which each anvil strike of his heart. It burns his mouth, sears his tongue and gums and lips yet arousal stirs hot in his gut. He heard the snarl above him, only prompting him to bite harder as glowing amber seeped around his mouth and burnt smoking holes into Bahamut’s tiled antechamber. It wouldn’t be a bother. Maybe he’d even keep them there as a testament to their heated debauchery though it was a simple fix, nothing more than an errant thought and the scorched tile would be replaced with glittering new ones. No. Not now. He pulled away from Ifrit’s throat, pulling a whimper from the lesser god with him. Ifrit’s claws dig into Bahamut’s shoulders then pull down,  _ hard _ . Golden ichor runs over honey bronzed skin dripping down ridges of muscle and Bahamut’s lips curl over his draconic teeth, still stained, mouth still smoking from Ifrit’s volcanic blood. Bahamut’s fingers knot in Ifrit’s coal black hair and he claims his mouth with a heated hatred. They clash teeth and tongues until Bahamut’s nails dig into Ifrit’s scalp and Ifrit’s claws shred into Bahamut’s wings, gripping them so tight, he can feel them scraping against the bone. He takes him against the wall mercilessly, not letting Ifrit speak merely snarl and moan and  _ whimper  _ as Bahamut drives into him over and over.

They really should stop meeting like this. When tempers flare and Bahamut’s chest warms with the fire burning in his heart, that white hot flame that Ifrit knows how to kindle oh so well, he is left to his most primal emotions- rage and lust. They were all consuming, engulfing his once noble, once proud mind in a carnal conflagration of hate and despotism and the want, no, the need to make Ifrit kneel, the need to make him  _ submit _ . And so there they were, in the same antechamber with the charred tiles since marred soot black with the amount of vitriol poured from Ifrit’s veins onto their pristine marble smoking and hissing as much as the god whose vessels  it once ran through before being so callously spilt, no, not callously. Bahamut was never callous, especially in bloodshed. Even now as he tightened golden divine chains (once only used for sacred rituals now binding his inamorto in a thousand wanton ways) Ifrit bled that acrid cruor that hissed and popped as it sought to melt the sanctified chains wrapping about him. 

“Please, Bahamut.” He panted as the chains tightened. “ _ Please _ .” 

“We had agreed that you are not to refer to me as that anymore.” His fingers tipped Ifrit’s head towards him, almost gently had the chains not been constricting him. “You forget yourself. You forget your place,  _ Ifrit _ .” He twists his name in his mouth. 

“I do,” he winced, “I beg...beg pardon of you then, my Lord and entreat you once more to just  _ fuck me already. _ ”

Bahamut tsked as he circled Ifrit, heavy armored boots thudding menacingly on the floor, “As to be expected. A shame truly.” He gripped Ifrit by the horns and pulled him up to hiss in his ear, “Perhaps if you could keep your tongue softer and not as some uncouth whinge you would not be quite so... _ unworthy _ . Yet let it be known that I am infinite in my mercy, even to those that kneel before me.”

Despite Bahamut’s words, Ifrit still smirked as he disrobed. Perhaps he could smother that hatred and that holier than thou attitude for just one moment, but perhaps that was hoping too much. 


End file.
